


Composition

by Missy



Category: A-Team (2010), Burn Notice
Genre: Angst, Banter, F/M, Older Characters, Reunions, Strength
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Maddie meet again, after the passing of a great many years and tragedies.  They knew one another then, but do they know each other now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Composition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GypsyJr (HippieGeekGirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieGeekGirl/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [GypsyJr (HippieGeekGirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieGeekGirl/pseuds/GypsyJr) in the [RoundOne](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RoundOne) collection. 



> Written for Over 40 Fest, prompt: "hannibal and Maddie,

She’s strangely composed as she meets with the doctor. “Yes, I’m fine. Of course, it’s natural to be upset when your son dies…oh, Michael? He’s somewhere in Venezuela. With his girlfriend. On vacation.” No, she doesn’t need anything new, no fresh prescription to sandbag back her ennui. Michael will be home soon; they will talk about it more when he’s in a better place.

The therapy is court-ordered; apparently smacking a person across the back of their head with your purse during a black Friday sale passed for a diagnosis of mental illness these days. All right, maybe there had been a bit of blood. It was the other woman’s fault for calling her a bitch.

These are the thoughts that cluttered Madeline Westen’s head as she attended her first group therapy session. Thankfully, Frank’s veteran’s benefits had carried her far, but as time wore on she knew she’d have to ask Michael for money, and it was a battle she neither relished in aspect nor desired to engage. 

Once the meeting finally broke for the night, she shuffled into the blazing heat for a cigarette and a cup of coffee. Both objects managed her anger perfectly well, and neither cost an arm and a leg to procure. The grey autumn skies and the bitter salty chill pulling off the Atlantic ocean make her shiver. Miami’s supposed to be toasty and beautiful this time of the year, but all she can feel is the pull of the autumnal years, dragging her closer and closer to an early grave.

*** 

It’s worse this time than it normally is. BA was the one to make excuses for him, even though he and Murdock had never gotten along. The break from the real world had unaccountably made impact upon their work this time, so to the hospital for group counseling it was, while BA and Face held down the fort. Hannibal had even threatened playfully to let Face run the show entire, raising BA’s hackles. But the two of them had settled in and taken to playing a couple of crooks trying to buy out an innocent woman’ clothing shop.

They have to play it off like it’s a little joke, a wee bit of a lark. Otherwise the cold, hard facts of Murdock’s instability will crash in on them all. 

He’s quite precious to them, something that’s hard to admit when fear and uncertainty are yawning back at you.

***

“Long time, no see,” he said. 

The words sent her eyes slithering toward his face, his expression. They were watching her, carrying the same light they had back when she was sixteen. She picked up his scent, the trail of tobacco and the sound of his voice. Her head tilted and the Styrofoam cup in her grip crushed between her solid fingers.

“John?” she muttered, lost, her voice a mere echo of its usual growl.

He stood up automatically, the way he had been trained to. There was a lady present. “You look wonderful.”

“My God,” she replied, fluffing the ends of her teased-out platinum-colored locks. “How many years has it been?”

“Fifty,” he said dryly, then added, “What are you doing here on such a fine day?”

“I felt like sightseeing,” she replied, stubbing out her cigarette. “I was trying to relax after my first day in anger management.”

“You?” he shook his head. “Why you were so sweet you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“’were’ is right,” Maddie replied. “What about you?”

“I have a friend upstairs, in a group session.”

“Oh,” she said. “Moral support?” 

“Trying to give it.” He puffed on his cigar. “Little Maddie McEntire. Whatever happened to you?”

She shook her head. “A lot of lousy luck – and some of the best friendships a girl could have.” She sat up. “You?”

“Years of combat training. And the best friendships a man could have.”

She glanced down at the crushed cup. “This is the sort of conversation that requires coffee. Good coffee – and I know just the place to get it.”

“You would – you’ve always had a way of examining a situation and coming out on top of it. You always had. Ahh, Madeline - you were amazing that night. I thought you were an angel, sent right down from heaven for me.” He held out his hand. “Float with me to that coffee shop?”

She laughed, finally standing, taking his arm. “Why didn’t we last?” 

He shook his head, sighed. “I had big plans and you were trying to make that odious boyfriend of yours jealous.”

“Frank,” she winced.

“Whatever happened to that man?”

“I married him.” At his horrified look, she added, “it’s a long story. Would you rather walk?”

“We can take my car.”

She followed him down a blind alley, where an enormous, well-equipped van sat. She gawked, gawked so obviously she couldn’t play it off, and he had the cheek to tease her.

“It’s a long story,” he said, and opened the door.

THE END


End file.
